


pull the panic cord (maybe i'm the one to blame)

by day



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Stiles, M/M, derek doesnt know either but he tries, no one dies dont worry, passive suicidal thoughts, stiles doesn't know what to do anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:18:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/day/pseuds/day
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one notices when Stiles stops caring about whether he lives or dies. He's not suicidal, per se, but he also wouldn't mind being dead. It's completely unhealthy and self destructive to think this way, he knows, but it's not like he could stop the thoughts from coming. They're just there. Thoughts of, 'I wouldn't mind not waking up tomorrow, maybe I'll get hit by a car on the way home, if I was dead I wouldn't have to deal with this.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	pull the panic cord (maybe i'm the one to blame)

**Author's Note:**

> it's 4am and this happened

No one notices when Stiles stops caring about whether he lives or dies. He's not suicidal, per se, but he also wouldn't mind being dead. It's completely unhealthy and self destructive to think this way, he knows, but it's not like he could stop the thoughts from coming. They're just _there_. Thoughts of, _I wouldn't mind not waking up tomorrow, maybe I'll get hit by a car on the way home, if I was dead I wouldn't have to deal with this._

 

But no one notices, not even Stiles himself at first, because _he's fine_. He's not sad, he doesn't have a traumatic past or a burden to carry, _he's okay_. So he continues living his destructive lifestyle and hopes that no one will call him out on 'forgetting' to wear his seat belt, walking too close to the freeway or jumping into dangerous situations with no regard or self preservation. He's _Stiles_ and that's just what he does.

 

It starts off small.

 

“-I am genuinely concerned over the amount of thought you put into that threat, I mean, I understand the whole threatening to kill me part, but adding in the steps of which you're going to end my life and where you're going to bury my body is worrisome.” Stiles snorts and pats Derek on the back roughly. It's not smart to actively try to piss off an Alpha werewolf, but Stiles isn't known for his self control, so.

 

Derek gives the boy a withering glare, knowing from past experience that acknowledging Stiles' teasing would only encourage such behavior later on (exactly like a dog begging for scraps at the dinner table ok, but Derek will never tell him this because that would only start another episode of retaliation via dog jokes).

 

Stiles grins and steps off the sidewalk, right in the path of a truck. Derek grips Stiles' arm and yanks so that they're both tumbling backwards in an awkward tangle of limbs and curses.

 

“Christ--” Stiles groans. “Be gentle, I'm fragile.”

 

“Are you an idiot?” Derek growls, still gripping Stiles' arm. “You're actually supposed to look before crossing the streets, in case you never learned that in kindergarten. You're going to get yourself killed.”

 

Stiles nervously licks his lips before shrugging off the broody werewolf. “I was distracted.” He grumbles, rubbing his arm with a deep frown.

 

“Distracted.” Derek repeats with narrowed eyes. Stiles' doesn't even look grateful that he's okay (not that Derek was expecting a thanks in return because he knows Stiles is a bastard who loses all manners when with him) and it's worrying because he doesn't even look the slightest bit relieved.

 

“Yeah.” Stiles blankly says.

 

Derek starts watching Stiles (in a non creepy way) and he doesn't know how to feel about Stiles' lack of self preservation. He wouldn't usually be alarmed since it's normal behavior for Stilinski, and it's totally cliché for Derek to say this, but it's something about his eyes that makes the warning bells in Derek's head go off.

 

Stiles continues living recklessly. He stops wearing seatbelts all together, he seeks out dangerous situations, and he still thinks about what it would be like if he was just dead.

 

Stiles isn't stupid. He's far from it-- he's calculating and viscious and he makes every decision completely aware of the consequences-- so he knows how this is going to turn out.

 

He knows what this is. He recognizes his passive suicidal tendencies, he knows what it's going to lead to but he also has no self control so he lets it happen. He's waiting for passive to become aggressive. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop. He's waiting for himself to fuck up and end his life and the scary part is he's not _afraid_.

 

“Hey, Derek.” Stiles speaks. Derek is doing his nightly 'rawr i'm capable of killing you so to remind you i'm sneaking into your window' rounds and he's glaring at the boy who's lounging precariously on his bed.

 

“What.”

 

“If I died, would you be sad?” Stiles asks curiously, eyes searching and alive. “Hypothetically speaking, if I ran off and got killed in some dramatic battle, would you have some level of regret?”

 

“Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?” Derek bristles, stepping closer.

 

“It's just a question, relax.” Stiles grins lazily. “I'm a teenage boy, it's basically the law for me to question my existence whilst lying in bed at night.”

 

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I'm worried about your mentality.”

 

“It's not like I'm going to kill myself.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “I'm just curious.”

 

“Yeah.” Derek gives in. “I would care.”

 

Stiles is about to ask Derek to tell him why, to reassure him that there are people who care, but the wolf is already gone, leaving Stiles to stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night.

 

Stiles gets into a car crash a week later. The accident wasn't his fault, per se, but Stiles also didn't swerve out of the way when he first noticed the car barreling towards him. He wasn't wearing a seat belt, again, and ended up being flung to the other side of his jeep, head crashing against the glass.

 

He wakes up in a hospital bed, the sound of his heart monitor echoing in his ears. The doctors say he's lucky to be alive. Stiles doesn't speak at this, just smiles and lays back onto the bed and tries to ignore the tears in his fathers eyes.

 

The pack visits, and the entire time, Derek is staring at Stiles with a pinched expression. He lingers behind after they all leave, standing next to Stiles' hospital bed with a grim face.

 

“Can I help you, Derek?” Stiles asks, eyebrows raised. “If you're here to tell me how stupid I am for not wearing a seat belt, I'm sorry to inform you my dad and Scott already beat you to it.”

 

“Stiles, why are you trying to die?” Derek asks gently.

 

Stiles stops flailing, dropping his hands limply onto his lap. “What makes you say that?” He narrows his eyes. “If this is about our conversation last week, that has nothing to do with this. The accident wasn't even my fault.”

 

“No.” Derek shakes his head.. “But you could have prevented it, you had time to move out of the way. Not to mention the whole seat belt situation, which, yes, was very stupid.”

 

“I was distracted!” Stiles protests and it's not a lie. He was distracted. Thinking about driving off the nearest cliff, but no one needs to know that.

 

“Distracted.” Derek repeats disbelievingly, “You seem to be distracted a lot lately.”

 

“What can I say?” Stiles shrugs innocently. “I have ADHD.”

 

Stiles is discharged from the hospital three days later. He's off his pain medication in a week. In three weeks, all that's left is a thin pink line on his forehead and raised discolored ridges on his ribs from where the glass tore into him.

 

Stiles doesn't do anything stupidly life threatening anymore and Derek thinks that maybe it was all just his paranoia and that he was worrying too much.

 

No one notices that Stiles has stopped eating. It's not like he's deliberately skipping meals, he's just not hungry anymore. There's no point in eating if his stomach doesn't feel the need to be filled, so he simply doesn't. He nibbles on chips whenever he's at pack meetings, mostly for something to do and also so Derek will stop staring at him like he's a new species.

 

Summer arrives, and the heat is sweltering and uncomfortable and everyone is itching for relief. Jackson invites them all over to his beach house a few hours away from Beacon Hill's and they make the trip over, immediately stripping out of their clothes and running into the cool water. Stiles chooses to lay under and umbrella and soak up some much needed sun. He finally removes his clothing and dips into the water while the pack is having some macho swimming competition (Erica is smoking them).

 

Stiles shivers as the water reaches his jutting hips, goosebumps dancing across his flesh. He rubs warmth back into his arms as he watches his friends laughing and playing, a small smile on his face. When the water gets too cold for him (despite the pounding sun, Stiles is still cold), he returns back to his spot on the sand, yawning. He's tired, even though they've only been there for an hour and Stiles hasn't done much, so he lays stomach down on the towel and falls into a fitful sleep.

 

He rouses to worried voices surrounding him, but keeps his eyes closed. “--has he always been this skinny?” Erica asks, the frown visible in her voice.

 

“I dunno.” Isaac answers. “He's never taken his shirt off in front of us besides now, so I have nothing to compare to.”

 

“You think he's okay?” Scott asks. “He used to love the beach.”

 

“He's just tired.” Stiles recognizes Derek's voice and wonders when he arrived. “Go swim some more before we head back.”

 

When they're all gone, Stiles feel's Derek's fingers tracing the bumps on his spine and curving around his sharp shoulder blades. “What are you doing to yourself?” Derek asks softly. It's so gently and so pained that Stiles has to bite down on his arm to keep from crying.

 

Of course, since everyone is having fun and that's apparently not allowed, a pack of wolves attack them while they're having a bonfire in the woods.

 

Everyone shifts and begins fighting, jaws tearing into flesh and claws ripping through muscle, trying to protect the humans.

 

Somewhere near the end of the fight, Stiles finds himself separated from Lydia and Allison and there's a looming and giant werewolf hunkering towards him. He has a giant stick in his hand and he should probably start screaming for help or fighting back by now, but he just drops his weapon and stares at the beast with blank eyes. It lunges and Stiles waits for the stinging pain, but only hears a low growl and the sound of tearing flesh.

 

Derek is shifted, still growling, and grabbing Stiles' arm before anyone could react. He barks for the beta's to clean up as he drags the human back into the beach house, throwing him onto the couch.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Derek snarls.

 

“What?” Stiles crosses his arms defensively. “I didn't do anything!”

 

“Exactly!” Derek booms, leaning down and gripping the back of the couch, arms caging Stiles in. “You didn't do anything. You just stood there and waited for it to kill you, and I swear to God, if you say you were distracted, I am going to snap you in half.”

 

“I panicked.” Stiles grits out. “It's a perfectly normal thing to do! A giant hunkering wolf is predatorily stalking towards me, a small squishy human, and I panicked and froze.”

 

“No.” Derek shakes his head in disbelief, stepping back. “No, Stiles, I've been watching you--”

 

“That is so unbelievably creepy, Derek, you shouldn't say that out loud.” Stiles muses, only to be shut up with a glare.

 

“I know what panic looks like, Stiles. It is a normal reaction in danger.” Derek agrees. “But you didn't look panicked, Stiles. You didn't even look _scared_. You looked defeated.”

 

“Derek, I--” Stiles starts, choking up. He doesn't want to acknowledge this yet. He's not ready. He wants to stay in blissful ignorance for a while more instead of actually having to face his problems.

 

“I don't know why you want to die so badly, Stiles,” Derek growls in frustration. Stiles thinks he can see fear in Derek's eyes, but it must be a trick of the light. “But I'm not going to let you.”

 

“I'm not--”

 

“Don't even try to deny it.” Derek shakes his head, looking down at Stiles in frustration. “You think I haven't noticed that you've completely given up your survival instinct? It's not even just a lack of self preservation, you actually actively seek out threatening things. I haven't seen you eat a real meal in so long. I thought that maybe I was being paranoid, that I was worrying too much, but I'm not going to let this slip anymore, Stiles. You can't live like this anymore.”

 

“Why not?” Stiles croaks out as he stands, brows furrowed and eyes watering. “Why can't I? I'm not harming anyone, am I? What's it matter if I die?”

 

Derek growls and shoves the boy against a wall. “You can't honestly be asking me that.”

 

“Well I am, Derek, I am asking you that.” Stiles wipes the tears from his eyes before they have time to fall. “The fact that I can't find something worth living for is a pretty fucked up sign that maybe there's _nothing worth it_. I'm not strong. I don't have talents, hell, I don't have friends outside of the pack and the only reason they stick around is because they're obligated. I'm absolutely _worthless_ \--” He flinches as Derek's fist slams into the wall near his head.

 

“I have nothing to live for.” Stiles whispers.

 

“Your dad.” Derek lists

 

“He'd get over it.”

 

“Scott.” Derek continues.

 

“Has Allison.”

 

“The pack.”

 

“Have each other.”

 

“Yourself.” Derek finishes.

 

“What?” Stiles asks in confusion.

 

“If you don't want to live for anyone else, live for yourself. Find something worth living for, for fucks sake. You can go through life trying to die, but that's not living, and you damn well know it. Stiles, we all care about you. I care about you, and I'm not going to watch you throw yourself into danger because you don't have anything to live for.” Derek begs, eyes crimson and angry.

 

“If I could live for myself, I wouldn't be miserable.” Stiles says softly, biting at his lip.

 

“Then live for me.” Derek's voice cracks a bit and he's clawing at the wall next to Stiles' head. “For now, until you find something worth living for, live for me.”

 

“I don't need your pity—”

 

Derek growls and he's gripping Stiles' face in both hands, lining their bodies up as he crashes their lips together. Stiles makes a sound of surprise and flails a bit, but before he can kiss back, Derek pulls away. Stiles frowns and chases, capturing Derek's lips and kissing him once more, twice, three times. Derek allows it for a few seconds before pulling away and pressing their foreheads together. “It's not pity. I care about you, you idiot. So promise me you'll try.”

 

Stiles tries to kiss Derek again but he's held back. “Promise.” Derek insists.

 

Stiles looks into Derek's insanely beautiful eyes before nodding. “I promise.”

 

Things don't magically get better. Stiles still has trouble eating since his stomach isn't used to being filled again. He still finds himself not wearing his seat belt (Derek manhandles him into it each time), he still doesn't look both ways before crossing the street, but he doesn't actively try to find things that want to kill him anymore.

 

Derek helps him come clean to his dad and he's admitted into therapy. They try to get him on pills, but Stiles protested heavily (Derek didn't argue, he didn't like the smell it left), so they just increase the amount of counseling sessions.

 

Sometimes Stiles wonders if it's really worth the trouble. But he looks at Derek who's trying to hard to make him live again and he decides that yeah, maybe it is.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Panic Cord by Gabrielle Aplin


End file.
